C is for Collapse, D is for Dank, E is for Elliptical
Title: In Love and War
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Polly/Mal
Claim: Discworld
Rating: PG
Word count: 200
A/N: OTP time. Spoilers. Set after Monstrous Regiment.
Summary: A wound, a journey, a private worry.
It has been a very long hike up the mountain side. Polly marches silently, her jacket buttoned up tight, the red seeping into the white. Behind her, the squad is silent too, save for their grunts of effort and someone's muffled sniffling.
Maladicta's marching directly behind her. Polly wishes it will prove unnecessary, that she'll be able to walk all the way up to camp, that there'll be an Igor, and that the recruits won't have to see her fall...
...but it's good to know that Mal is there, and that if she collapses, there'll be someone to carry her, just as Polly once carried her.
Polly dares a glance back. The thought passes between her and Mal, and they smile at each other; Polly, grateful, Mal, tight with worry, and almost admonishing. She could take Polly to camp right now, through the air; but the squad would be left without sergeant or corporal. And they are only little lads.
Polly might wonder if Mal regrets anything: this life, and this bond, caring for someone who for all purposes is only pre-dead; wonder if they shouldn't call it off; but there's no room for any thoughts; only for the taking of another step.
---
Title: Tag, You're It
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: young Gytha Ogg/young Esmeralda Weatherwax
Claim: Discworld
Rating: PG
Word count: 250
A/N: Yes, of course it had to be written.
Summary: Esme runs and hides, but would you ever catch her admitting it?
Gytha padded through the Lancre Castle cells. All doors swung open at a touch: no-one had been held here since the Morris Men had been arrested for clubbing Havershot's prize pig during rehearsals (at the time the barn they usually kept prisoners in was taken up by the lace market).
She found Esme in one of the outer cells, leaning on the wall, arms crossed. The lanky young witch glared at Gytha through her fall of hair.
'There you are, then,' Gytha said cheerily. 'Are you going to sit here in the dark and dank all day?'
'I can if I wants to,' said Esme, turning her stubborn stare to the wall.
'You'll catch your death of cold.'
Esme snorted. 'I like cold.'
'Suit yourself.' Gytha felt laughter bubbling up, and restraining it, she thought, it felt a great deal like love. 'As long as it's not because you're hiding, or anything of the sort.'
'Of course not.'
'Because it was gettin' kind of frisky up there, wasn't it?'
Even in the slanting white light Gytha could see Esme's cheeks flare red.
'Just so's you know, if you ever feels like getting a bit friskier still, I wouldn't mind. Cheerio, then!'
'You're a damn fool, Gytha Ogg,' murmured Esme as Gytha padded back towards the exit.
Gytha pretended not to hear that, but as it was, she knew a great deal more about seduction than Esmeralda Weatherwax ever would, and she knew when her prey was caught; and look here, she hadn't even needed a lock and key.
---
Title: In a Time of Ancient Gods
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Herrena/OFC
Claim: Discworld
Rating: PG
Word count: 200
A/N: ...warriors, and kings, a land in turmoil... If you don't know the reference you are not a proper geek, friend.
Summary: Herrena has a new toy.
Herrena eyed the object, turned it around in her hand, gave it an experimental toss, then slung it. She'd only thought of the possibility of it flying in a graceful curving line, slicing wounds on the surrounding trees, and returning to her hand. Ridiculous, of course - but she found her fingers closing around the lethal disc, catching it quite easily. She stared at it.
Miranda the Warrior Flutist whistled. 'What on earth is that?'
'The merchant called it a catram,' said Herrena, and indeed, there were images of a cat and a ram etched along the sides.
The wind seemed for a moment to blow from a different world. The adventuresses shivered and looked at each other for confirmation of what they both knew by an instinct every successful adventurer develops early - that magic was afoot. Herrena hung the catram on her hip and mounted her mare, helping Miranda up behind her.
They galloped against the wind, and Herrena found herself thinking about Miranda, the warmth of her body through the leather and metal, and finding herself quite distracted from the magic. There was something right here; something was just as it should be.
The story was pulling them in.
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Polly/Mal
Claim: Discworld
Rating: PG
Word count: 200
A/N: OTP time. Spoilers. Set after Monstrous Regiment.
Summary: A wound, a journey, a private worry.
It has been a very long hike up the mountain side. Polly marches silently, her jacket buttoned up tight, the red seeping into the white. Behind her, the squad is silent too, save for their grunts of effort and someone's muffled sniffling.
Maladicta's marching directly behind her. Polly wishes it will prove unnecessary, that she'll be able to walk all the way up to camp, that there'll be an Igor, and that the recruits won't have to see her fall...
...but it's good to know that Mal is there, and that if she collapses, there'll be someone to carry her, just as Polly once carried her.
Polly dares a glance back. The thought passes between her and Mal, and they smile at each other; Polly, grateful, Mal, tight with worry, and almost admonishing. She could take Polly to camp right now, through the air; but the squad would be left without sergeant or corporal. And they are only little lads.
Polly might wonder if Mal regrets anything: this life, and this bond, caring for someone who for all purposes is only pre-dead; wonder if they shouldn't call it off; but there's no room for any thoughts; only for the taking of another step.
---
Title: Tag, You're It
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: young Gytha Ogg/young Esmeralda Weatherwax
Claim: Discworld
Rating: PG
Word count: 250
A/N: Yes, of course it had to be written.
Summary: Esme runs and hides, but would you ever catch her admitting it?
Gytha padded through the Lancre Castle cells. All doors swung open at a touch: no-one had been held here since the Morris Men had been arrested for clubbing Havershot's prize pig during rehearsals (at the time the barn they usually kept prisoners in was taken up by the lace market).
She found Esme in one of the outer cells, leaning on the wall, arms crossed. The lanky young witch glared at Gytha through her fall of hair.
'There you are, then,' Gytha said cheerily. 'Are you going to sit here in the dark and dank all day?'
'I can if I wants to,' said Esme, turning her stubborn stare to the wall.
'You'll catch your death of cold.'
Esme snorted. 'I like cold.'
'Suit yourself.' Gytha felt laughter bubbling up, and restraining it, she thought, it felt a great deal like love. 'As long as it's not because you're hiding, or anything of the sort.'
'Of course not.'
'Because it was gettin' kind of frisky up there, wasn't it?'
Even in the slanting white light Gytha could see Esme's cheeks flare red.
'Just so's you know, if you ever feels like getting a bit friskier still, I wouldn't mind. Cheerio, then!'
'You're a damn fool, Gytha Ogg,' murmured Esme as Gytha padded back towards the exit.
Gytha pretended not to hear that, but as it was, she knew a great deal more about seduction than Esmeralda Weatherwax ever would, and she knew when her prey was caught; and look here, she hadn't even needed a lock and key.
---
Title: In a Time of Ancient Gods
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Herrena/OFC
Claim: Discworld
Rating: PG
Word count: 200
A/N: ...warriors, and kings, a land in turmoil... If you don't know the reference you are not a proper geek, friend.
Summary: Herrena has a new toy.
Herrena eyed the object, turned it around in her hand, gave it an experimental toss, then slung it. She'd only thought of the possibility of it flying in a graceful curving line, slicing wounds on the surrounding trees, and returning to her hand. Ridiculous, of course - but she found her fingers closing around the lethal disc, catching it quite easily. She stared at it.
Miranda the Warrior Flutist whistled. 'What on earth is that?'
'The merchant called it a catram,' said Herrena, and indeed, there were images of a cat and a ram etched along the sides.
The wind seemed for a moment to blow from a different world. The adventuresses shivered and looked at each other for confirmation of what they both knew by an instinct every successful adventurer develops early - that magic was afoot. Herrena hung the catram on her hip and mounted her mare, helping Miranda up behind her.
They galloped against the wind, and Herrena found herself thinking about Miranda, the warmth of her body through the leather and metal, and finding herself quite distracted from the magic. There was something right here; something was just as it should be.
The story was pulling them in.